Merry Christmas
Woke up around nine-thirty to my mom laughing. I was up a half-hour later, getting ready to finish dumping my music onto my iriver (which is actually a wonderful little MP3 player, it puts everyone's iPod to shame), mom's hospital called and called her into work. Turns out they called around five to say she could have the day off, and then two hours later to say that she was on call, and around ten, they called her in. Dad threw a fit--I swear, it sounded like he had tourettes syndrome. He was furious, going on and on, "god fucking damn it, Kathy, every fucking year," followed her downstairs, screamed some more, at which point I threw a pair of jeans on over my pajamas and a hooide. I grabbed my iriver and started hunting for the leash, interrupted my parents fight to let them know I was taking off for a little while, told them both flat out that I warned them two nights ago and again yesterda that that was my plan, managed to turn the corner of South Park off of Greenway, and mom came tearing down the road and picked me up. she brought me back, home, I headed for my room, saw dad crying along the way. Ten minutes later after I calmed down enough to see him, I went out into the living room where dad was sitting on the couch, crying, and just sat with him.
I'm sorry this is out of chronological sequence, but before I left, Terry came out and got in my dad's fast, causing my dad to raise a fist to him. Mom got him out of the way, Terry goes to his room, stays in there for a little while. This is the point at which I left.
So I talked to my dad a little bit, told him that I loved him very, very much and when he tried to apologize for ruining christmas, his voice cracked. It was awful. I told him that he didn't, and that neither did mom, Terry and i understood both sides of the story, but that we also understood that mom's job was the only reason that we have health insurance, and with this family's medical history, we really need it. He was crying, said something about how no one in the family understands how he feels nor do they care. I sat with him for awhile and oh god. He's here now.
Todd picked us up, said he was afraid for our safety--Dad wasn't going to do anything to harm us. I know this for a fact. As furious and upset as he was, he wasn't going to do anything to hurt any of us. I trust my father implicitly and as upset as I am that he was being so unreasonable, I understand what he's feeling, and I'm not going to hold any of this against him. I'm just nervous as to what the fuck he thinks he's doing right now. He pulled into the driveway just now and when Bev ran out to talk to him, he pulled out to leave.
I feel awful because Todd got us out of the house without telling dad where we were going. He stood in front of the door and wouldn't let me in, but agreed to let me call whomever I wanted once we got to his house. I called Dan, but he's busy right now, going over to his girlfriend's.
...Actually, it's a good thing that I called, because around ten-thirty, he was still sleeping, and he was supposed to be at Brandi's house at eleven. :D
I'll let you guys know what's going on later, when I get the chance. I'll update when I get home, so please don't bother calling until then, no one's going to be around to answer the phone. I'd rather you didn't waste your time.
Bev just walked in. Dad went up to flower a Day Florists and bought me flowers, he's going to get roses for mom and drive them up to the hospital. God damn, I feel like I'm in sophomore year again. My drama is not in school walls; it's at home. My father is an angsty emo kid trapped in a forty year-old's body. I love him very much, I really do...but god fucking damn.
In any case, Missy, count on me being at your house tomorrow. Mom and dad are going to try to win back my good graces by letting me do whatever the hell I want--since "Christmas is ruined," they're going to try to make it up to me.
Frankly, I'm not worried about christmas being ruined. I knew it was going to happen, I was ready for it, I'm fine. I'm mostly worried about dad--he's not exactly a very...rational person.
In any case, I hope that you guys appreciate your families. I hope you appreciate being with them today, because if you don't, you truly deserve to be shot twice and buried in aborted fetuses. Your families love you.
They do.
My parents love us too; my dad was bugging out because he's never had a normal, unstressful Christmas with his family. Grandma was neurotic, Lee (his father) was alcoholic, he and my aunt hated each other, and as soon as dad could work, he was. It doesn't justify his behavior at all, so don't think that I'm saying that it does. It never will. However, it loans insight to the situation, doesn't it? He wanted us to be together for Christmas. Parents want their kids to have things they lacked as children.
So if I see one entry--just ONE fucking entry--ranting about how everyone hates their parents for whatever fucking reason, please bear in mind that some kids don't get to see their parents at all anymore, for whatever reason. Be sensitive to the fact that some families fight over stupid, stupid shit every fucking year. Be sensitive to the fact that some kids have parents that no longer live under the same roof, and are forced to split their holidays between parents.
You're lucky as all hell. I am, too.
Take care of yourselves, please. I love you all.